


the better part of valor

by chameleonchanging



Series: hippocrates [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, briefly, but plo is in for a surprise if he thinks he's getting help from that corner, wolffe is in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 11:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/pseuds/chameleonchanging
Summary: Plo has a lot of misgivings about how the GAR is run, especially when it comes to prioritizing medical care, and like a lot of Kel Dor, Plo will take a stand for his principles. "Right after a battle while injured" was probably not the best time to pick that fight with the battalion medic.How Plo Koon learns not to get in his medic's way, or why Kit Fisto is S-O-L when he asks for Plo's help escaping the Courageous' medbay.





	the better part of valor

At the end of a long battle, Plo finally allows himself to rest. He finds a slab of concrete sturdy enough to lean against, slides down until he is sitting, and tilts his head back to simply breathe. He doesn’t recall exactly how many times he’d been thrown by a droid or which side of him went  _ crack _ on a bad landing; he does know that it wasn’t urgent at the time and that the Force has been wonderful for keeping the discomfort at bay for the duration of the fight. Little wonder, as his entire body feels like an enormous bruise. In a distant part of his mind lives the awareness that something isn’t quite right with him, but that part is mostly drowned out by the relief of not having to move. 

He watches his troopers begin clean-up, sucking in slow breaths through his filter, and allows his attention to drift a little. A few minutes later - perhaps thirty? - the sound of approaching boots pulls him from his rest. He opens his eyes to see who is looking for him. Sergeant Catch, medical officer, been with the 104th since Geonosis. Why is he here?

“General Koon,” says Catch, squatting beside Plo and dropping his bag. “We were getting worried about you.”

“There is no need,” says Plo. “I am quite well.” 

“Well, sir, I’m going to have a look at you anyway just to be sure,” says Catch. He presses two gloveless fingers to Plo’s wrist, and then his neck, frowning the entire time. “Sir, did anything hit you? Did you fall on something?”

“Of course not,” says Plo. “I am completely fine, Sergeant. You should be in the medical tent helping your brothers.”

Something about his words alarms Catch. Perhaps the slight slowness to them. It happens sometimes when Plo has had a very long day. 

“Sir, I need you to look at me.” 

With a sigh, Plo lifts his head. It seems more wobbly than usual. But he manages, and he looks Catch in the eye. Catch frowns even more and opens up his bag instead of going to help his brothers. It bothers Plo that Catch is here, fussing over nothing, instead of where he should be. Plo has had his bell rung at worst. 

“General, you require medical attention,” Catch says. 

“This is not an important injury - go treat your brothers,” says Plo. In the corner of his eye, he sees troopers in 104th grey limping across the field, one supported on the shoulders of two others. The trooper in the middle is trailing blood behind him. “They look like they could use your help.”

“Regulations -”

“I do not  _ care _ for regulations, Sergeant. I care about  _ right _ ,” Plo says. The anger he has never been able to suppress at the thought of cloning for war rises in him, catching in his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “I will be triaged like all of your other patients, and I will be treated in the order that assessment dictates. If that means I die because the cost of saving my life is too high, then so be it. This is hardly a bruise; it will wait.”

Catch’s eyes narrows. Plo can hear his teeth grinding before he activates his comm and speaks with the kind of focused wrath healers everywhere had perfected, never once breaking eye contact. “Commander Wolffe, this is Sergeant Catch. The General is being an idiot. Come deal with him.”

He disconnects as soon as he receives confirmation and levels a glare at Plo. 

“So are you going to do as you’re told, or am I going to tell the Commander exactly what you said?”

Plo takes a moment to admire the job the Temple Healers have done with training the clone medics in Jedi herding. Then he continues digging his hole. By the time Wolffe arrives, Catch’s frustration and anger is palpable in the air and Plo’s breathing is so shallow the movement of his chest is invisible under his robes. 

“General, Sergeant,” Wolffe greets as he jogs up to them.

“I need a witness,” Catch says, pulling a hypo the way his brothers pull blasters. “General Koon is being uncooperative and is not currently capable of making decisions regarding his own health.”

“Commander,” says Plo, “Sergeant Catch is - overreacting. I require - no aid. Immediately.”

Wolffe raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Knock him out, Catch.”

Plo manages to look betrayed when the needle goes in his thigh. Wolffe kneels beside him and provides a shoulder to lean against as his awareness begins to fade. In another time, in another place, if he were not a General and Wolffe his Commander, he would welcome the friendly touch.

* * *

“So here’s the thing,” says Catch when Plo wakes up in the medbay on the  _ Triumphant _ , feeling a little bit like he’s been hit by a lartie. “Us doctor-types don’t really like it when people who don’t know where their spleens are try to tell us that no, they don’t have internal bleeding. Whether or not you think that bleeding is likely to be an immediate danger in your species doesn’t have any bearing on that.”

Plo groans quietly as he rolls over on the bunk and pushes himself up. Catch supports him, shoves a pillow behind his back, and steps away. 

“I apologize,” says Plo. “But I stand by what I told you. I will not be placed above those in my care.”

“Not much of an apology, then, is it, sir?” Catch asks. “But all that you’ll have to argue with the Commander - and there is going to be one hell of an argument, excuse the language. I have a few questions for you.”

“By all means,” says Plo.

“Do you know how many brothers were injured in that engagement?”

“Too many,” says Plo.

“One hundred thirty seven,” says Catch, ignoring Plo. “Of those, seven have marched on, ninety-three were discharged with bacta patches, and twenty-eight are recovering under loose supervision. Two were found after we were done with you. Do you know how many of the remaining were in or on their way to tanks while you were being stubborn and delirious? All six. Do you think I am bad at my job, sir?”

“Of course not, Sergeant,” Plo answers, a little shocked at Catch’s vehemence. “None of us would be here without you.”

“Then I'll thank you not to tell me how to do it,” says Catch. His tone is sharp enough to cut glass.

“I will endeavour not to do so in future,” says Plo. “Sergeant, it bothers me that you and your brothers are trained to value Jedi lives over your own. I do not wish to be the cause of preventable death or injury. That is all I meant.”

“We're not like most other battalions,” says Catch. “And I guess that's a blessing and a curse. Truth is there's a lot of things that might be fixable at great cost on a Human that I can't do on a Kel Dor. Anyone else around here bleeds too much, I can suck a pint each out of ten brothers to top him off with five hundred more volunteers waiting. If the Commander gets blown to pieces and I have ten more only half blown to bits, I’d have to decide who to give my time and supplies to. You, though.” He sighs. “Once you're past a certain point, I just don't have the tools to bring you back if you don't find a way back yourself. I know I'd have to let you go. It would hurt like hell, sir, because you're right I value your life a lot, but I'd walk away and send someone to wait for the end with you.”

Plo lets out a breath. “Thank you, Sergeant. You don't know how much that means to me.”

“Don't thank me for failing,” Catch snaps. “If I'm working on you, it's because I've already done the math. So begging your pardon, sir, but you’ll shut up and let me treat you just like everyone else in this battalion, or so help me Che, you'll be dealing with the Healer-General and not just little old me.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” says Plo, both very impressed and a little sheepish, with a heightened respect for the lineage Vokara has built herself.

Catch declines to respond. He punches in a few more lines on his datapad and does a physical exam, as gentle as his words were sharp. A thought occurs to Plo. 

“You said one hundred thirty seven brothers,” he says. “You only accounted for one hundred thirty six. What about the last?”

Catch gives him a withering  _ you can't really be this stupid _ look, marches to the door, and sticks his head out. “Commander, he's awake and ready for you.”

Wolffe comes in. The pair of them look very unhappy. Plo braces himself for the incoming explosion. Catch removes a heavy-looking object from the table.

“Last question before I go: do you know what this is?” Catch asks, holding up a very large staple gun. It looks like it came from construction. The tines are long enough to go through the mattress, and wide enough that simply tearing one’s robes to escape might cause severe structural damage to the item of clothing in question.

Plo decides abruptly that silence is a better option than argument for preserving his dignity.

“I do,” says Plo.

“Good. Welcome officially to the 104th,” says Catch, and leaves.

* * *

A year and a half later, Kit joins them for a campaign in the Mid-Rim and takes a blaster wound to the side. Plo is directing the battle on the western front; he finds out when the casualty reports come in afterwards and arrives at the medbay just as Catch staples Kit to the bunk by his trousers.

“Plo - Plo! Tell him I’m fine!” Kit pleads, clearly not used to how medical works in the 104th.

Catch turns to look at Plo. He doesn't raise his eyebrows, but the motion is heavily implied. 

“Sorry,” Plo says, but he joins Kit, standing on the other side of his bunk.

“Damn right,” Catch grumbles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Catch is away on training during the Malevolence disaster, which is how he survives to harass Kit Fisto on the Courageous.
> 
> Find me at ccinagalaxyfaraway.tumblr.com


End file.
